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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471103">five day forecast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_the_homo/pseuds/Patrocool'>Patrocool (all_the_homo)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Depression, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern Era, Racetrack Higgins Centric, Self-Reflection, Trans Racetrack Higgins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:00:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_the_homo/pseuds/Patrocool</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After an incident that included a lot of alcohol, a failed attempt at a flip, a fall off of his apartment fire escape, and a very pretty boy calling an ambulance for him, Racetrack Higgins has fallen into a depressive slump rivaling all other depressive slumps, and it might just take a very persistent (and annoying) brother, a new (very pretty) friend, and some serious self reflection to work towards getting better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Racetrack Higgins &amp; Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon &amp; Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>five day forecast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey so its been almost exactly 10 months since i last posted something newsies related, and uhhhhhh a lot has happened as you all know well, im sure. but i actually started this fic sometime last february/early march while i was in a depressive slump and then was like "im gonna do my best to get better!" and then i was quarantined in my tiny college dorm for like two months and the only person i could talk to in person was one of the two workers in the cafeteria of my school, so that was fun. definitely don't recommend that, i'll be honest. anyways, that made me immediately much more depressed, as you might imagine, so i definitely did not have a character arc as i hoped. i opened my fanfics folder on my laptop while working on a dnd campaign i'm dming, and honestly, i'm not even into newsies anymore for the most part, but it was a personal thing to finish this. a nice bow to tie off, in a way. </p>
<p>i actually have a whole bunch of partially written newsies fanfics, so you might see me posting those in the future, but i don't think i'll be starting any. </p>
<p>anyways, point is, this shit is heavy. its depression, and like real depression. theres self destructive behavior, a lot of anger, alcohol abuse, verbal arguments, anger, mentions of drug abuse, implications of suicidal thoughts, hospitals, and numbness. this spans quite a few months, and its on purpose that it's vague on the time passing. </p>
<p>also, spot and race dont officially get together in this. race needs to get into a much better headspace before he can be in a healthy relationship, but they definitely like each other lmao. it was originally gonna end with them actually getting together in some capacity, but honestly, it didn't really fit, so.</p>
<p>title is from rainclouds by long sought rest.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>i rode south for the winter, but goddamnit, i'm still cold. my lungs are filled with black mold and second-hand cigarette smoke. it feels like purgatory, i'm so distressed, just trying to stay busy not to get depressed, but them rainclouds follow me everywhere i go. well, that sunshine leaves your town as soon as i show up. finally got my boots stuck out of the mud, but that rain follows me everywhere i run. my train went north out of el paso, woke up in kansas city, ballast covered in snow. might as well be walkin' on the sun. and i've been trying to find that silver lining, but it's hard when your fingers are frozen. when every thing you own is drenched and soaking wet, you say you like getting caught in the rain. well, goddamnit darlin', that's just insane, i've got a five day forecast in my head, it says spend another five days lyin' in bed. wake me up when them rainclouds go away. well, i hate this fuckin' place, but i'm too sad to leave. them rainclouds follow me from seattle to new orleans. i got a stomach full of regret that it never let me forget. i got rainclouds over my head from seattle to new orleans.</i>
</p>
<p>rainclouds, long sought rest</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Racetrack Higgins thought he was happy. He was a bit of an adrenaline junkie, always doing stupid shit that usually landed him in the nearest urgent care center. In fact, that was what landed him in his current predicament, laying on his back in an alleyway beside his apartment building, and staring up at the sky, dazed and floating.</p>
<p>Turns out, Romeo was right. He could not stick the landing after back-flipping off the fire escape. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t even back flip. He just lost balance.</p>
<p>To be fair, he was also pretty fucking drunk. Romeo wasn’t even there, he had left over an hour ago and Race had just suddenly remembered what he had said and wanted to prove him wrong.</p>
<p>But now, he regretted that a lot. He couldn’t really move that well but he was pretty sure one of his arms was underneath him, which never was a good sign. His breaths hurt too, moving his ribs was painful.</p>
<p>Thank god he only lived on the second story and he was partially on a pile of trash. He was pretty sure he would be in much worse shape if either of those things wasn’t true.</p>
<p>“-answer me, damn it, you better not be brain dead, you moron-” A voice interrupted his thoughts and Race suddenly realized there was someone next to him, tapping his cheek and talking, trying to get him to talk. Race’s head lolled a little, and he saw a very small, angry looking man with pretty brown eyes, pretty brown skin, and pretty brown hair.</p>
<p>Race couldn’t think much further than “pretty” and “brown”.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he said dumbly.</p>
<p>The stranger’s words cut off and he stared at him, his thick eyebrows raising just below his hairline. Pretty.</p>
<p>“Hi?” He echoed in disbelief. “You just fell off a goddamn fire escape and that’s the first thing you say?”</p>
<p>Race considered his words for a moment before very slowly nodding his head. “It was very nice of you to stop by,” he slurred, figuring the pretty stranger had come to visit. How else would he know what happened? Man, he was a terrible host. Maybe he should offer him something as an apology. “Y’want whiskey?” he asked.</p>
<p>The stranger frowned. “I’m going to assume you’re concussed and not just a total dumbass,” he said slowly. “The ambulance is gonna be here soon.”</p>
<p>“Whoa,” he said, eyes wide. “That’s so cool. Y’ever been in an ambulance?”</p>
<p>Pretty stranger’s frown deepened. “I don’t even know you and you’re stressing me out.”</p>
<p>Race grinned and nodded. “That’s what Jack says a lot,” he said, carefully sounding his words out. “He pretends we’re not brothers which is kind of easy ‘cause he’s Mexican and can just pretend he doesn’t speak English and I’m like… Really white. Half Italian technically, but my skin is so pale you can’t tell.” Weakly he raised his good arm and shoved it towards the stranger, as if to prove it. </p>
<p>“I wish I didn’t know English so I would have an excuse to not talk to you,” the stranger grumbled, gently taking his arm and laying it down. “Stop moving, you idiot. What’s your name?”</p>
<p>“Oh wow, you are not gonna believe it,” he giggled. “My name is Racetrack.”</p>
<p>The stranger narrowed his eyes. “Racetrack?” He asked. </p>
<p>Race nodded sagely, giggling. “Yeah, I know, it’s unbelievable.”</p>
<p>“No, not that, dumbass. You’re Racetrack Higgins?”</p>
<p>Race nodded. “I said that,” he agreed, and then paused. “Did I say that?”</p>
<p>The stranger groaned. “You’re Cowboy’s little brother,” he said, no longer a question. “Of course you are.”</p>
<p>“Oh man, Jack! He’s great,” Race mumbled. “I’m really tired. Say hi to Jacky for me.”</p>
<p>The stranger looked panicked, shaking his head. “No, no, don’t fall asleep, for fuck’s sake, don’t fall asleep. I’m pretty sure that’s really bad. Stay with me, okay?”</p>
<p>But it was too late. Just as he heard sirens coming closer, Race’s eyes slipped shut and he slipped away.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Racetrack Higgins was pretty sure he was happy, but really only in the general sense. In the specific sense, as in right now this very moment, however, he decided death would be a welcome friend with the amount of pain he was feeling.</p>
<p>He opened his eyes and saw white. He heard beeping, and felt something in his hand. He blinked blearily and lolled his head over to see his brother asleep in a chair holding onto his hand. And his hand was on a bed. So he was on a bed, but it was a white bed, one he didn’t recognize. And he was in a very white room. And he was also very white, but that was something he knew already. He was just telling that to somebody. Who was he telling that to?</p>
<p>“Jack,” he said, feeling woozy and floaty but very much in pain. “Jack, who the fuck was I talking to? I was tellin’ ‘em I was white, who…”</p>
<p>Jack stirred, and then sat up  quickly as he realized Race was awake. He stared at Race and then snorted, running his free hand through his hair. He did that when he was anxious. Why was Jack anxious?</p>
<p>“Antonio,” Jack started, and Race knew he was in for it then because Jack Kelly never used Race’s real name. “You’re a fucking asshole. And a dumbass. And you better not ever pull that shit again, or I’ll push you off the damn fire escape myself.”</p>
<p>Race blinked slowly and then nodded. “I forgot about that,” he mumbled. “Did I do it?”</p>
<p>Jack raised his eyebrows. “Do what?”</p>
<p>“The backflip, Romeo said I couldn’t, but I said I could, and so I tried it, but I can’t remember the flip, only the part where I hit the ground… So did I do it?”</p>
<p>Jack looked up at the ceiling and took in a shaky breath. He must be really upset if he had to calm himself before answering. “You fell off your fire escape while drunk off your ass. You have a really bad concussion, several cracked ribs, a broken arm, and a sprained ankle. Though, the doctors say the sprain likely didn’t happen from the fall.”</p>
<p>Race nodded sagely. “I remember that part,” he said slowly. “That’s what made me fell, my foot got stuck, Jacky.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that checks out,” Jack said, exasperated. “Look, Tony…” He pursed his lips, trying to formulate words. Dread settled heavy in Race’s gut. “I know things have been really rough for you, okay? It has been for a really long time, and I know losing that audition hurt you a lot-”</p>
<p>“Stop,” Race said roughly. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m tired, Kelly.”</p>
<p>Jack pursed his lips, and Race pretended to sleep.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>So maybe Racetrack Higgins wasn’t so fucking happy as he allowed people to think. What did it matter? He could do whatever he wanted, damn it, and if he wanted to be an adrenaline junkie, well. It was better than being a junkie junkie like his mom, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>The kind stranger that saved his ass came to visit him the second day. He brought a balloon that said “Happy Birthday!” on it, and the birthday part had been crossed out with a Sharpie and in messy handwriting, “recovery” had been written underneath.</p>
<p>Race stared at it blankly, having trouble reading it at first. The stranger looked uncomfortable. “They didn’t have any “Get Well Soon” ones,” he explained awkwardly.</p>
<p>He didn’t respond, going limp against the pillows. A deafening silence stressed between them. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to be here,” Race said finally, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to look Jack’s friend. He didn’t want to think.</p>
<p>“Too late for that,” was the response he got, and Jack’s friend tied the balloon to the little side table, and sat in the chair. The chair Jack was sitting in until he left. And eventually this guy would leave too, and Race would be stuck there while the world moved on, spinning around and around and around.</p>
<p>Race closed his eyes tightly, his stomach rolling. He really didn’t want to do this. Any of this. He wanted to just sleep forever.</p>
<p>“How are you doing?” The guy tried again, his voice low and gentle. Jack probably told him to be as quiet as possible.</p>
<p>“Why do you care?” He had meant to snap at him, get angry and piss the other guy off so they could just hurry up to the part where he leaves and doesn’t come back. He meant to, but it just came out tired.</p>
<p>There was silence, and Race cracked an eye open, wondering if he had actually made the guy leave. But there he was, his pretty brown eyes thoughtful and staring at the wall. He seemed to be deep in his head.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he said after a moment, his gaze swinging back towards Race. “You intrigued me, I guess, with your half drunk, half concussed rambling.” He last sentence was almost sarcastic, and Race closed his eyes again.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what I said,” he shrugged. “I can’t remember most of what happened.” He remembered the kind stranger though, he remembered dark brown eyes flicking over him nervously, and a gentle hand on his shoulder, holding him down.</p>
<p>“I’m Spot, by the way,” he said. Race hummed in response. Spot, that sounded like a signature Jack Kelly nickname.</p>
<p>There was silence once again, and Spot shuffled a little. Race kept his eyes shut.</p>
<p>“I have to go.” He sounded apologetic. Why bother pretending? “I have class. I uh… Cowboy said you’re going home tonight though, so get some rest.”</p>
<p>Race didn’t answer, and Spot sighed. He heard him get up and start walking out, pausing after a few steps.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you around, Racetrack.”</p>
<p>He left, and Race was alone once again.</p>
<p>Typical.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Racetrack wanted to be happy, but being happy only happened when your brain let up on all of the edgy self deprecating bullshit enough for you to be able to see some good in the world, and very rarely did that happen. Each day only seemed to get harder, and that fucking sucked because Race really wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on his face.</p>
<p>“I think you should see someone.”</p>
<p>Jack was talking quietly. He always was these days, ever since Race fell. Race was pretty sure his brother thought he did it on purpose.</p>
<p>He hadn’t. Honestly, he hadn’t. But Race had to wonder if that was only because he hadn’t thought of it when he was drunk.</p>
<p>Race stared out the window. His hair was slick with grease and his body itched. The cast on his arm felt unbearably heavy, and he wished he still had some of those pain meds his doctor had given him.</p>
<p>“Medda can’t… She won’t be able to pay for your apartment forever, Race, and I don’t mean that you have to get better and find a job right now, but… But at least start to focus on getting better.”</p>
<p>Race’s throat felt thick and his head ached. Didn’t Jack get it? He fucking tried so goddamn hard. He got out of bed today, he made breakfast and hot cocoa, he made it to the window sill to sit there. Hell, he had even put on deodorant. That was better than yesterday, doesn’t that count for anything?</p>
<p>Couldn’t Jack see he was trying? </p>
<p>“Okay, I uh. I get it, you don’t want to talk to me. Just… Just text me later and let me know when you take your T, okay? You’re only gonna feel worse if you forget it.”</p>
<p>Race could hear Jack leave and he wanted to cry. He wanted to shut, to scream, to beg Jack not to go, to make a pillow fort with him like they did when they were kids and Race was scared he’d be shipped off to yet another foster home. </p>
<p>But he couldn’t make a sound, and Jack left once again.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Racetrack was trying to get better, damn it, and it that meant punching a punching bag over and over because Jack said exercise might help but Race couldn’t bare going out in public, so fucking be it. He was gonna punch that thing as hard as he could, and he was going to blast his music loud enough for his neighbors to hate him, and if he happened to have a breakdown in the middle of it, well, then it must be another fucking Tuesday.</p>
<p>But if he could get a little bit better, it meant he was one step closer to getting happy, and damn it, he was going to fight to feel the sun.</p>
<p>It had been two months. He started marking days on a calender to try to get a better sense of time. He made himself a schedule, and he was getting better and better at sticking to it. He had only skipped a couple meals this week, was only late out of bed three time, and yeah, he forgot to take a shower when he was supposed to, but when he woke up and realized he forgot, he did it then.</p>
<p>There was a knock on the door. Race wiped the sweat off his face on his tanktop and didn’t answer. Maybe they’d give up.</p>
<p>The second time, it was more like banging, and Race groaned. That meant it was Jack. </p>
<p>“Let yourself in, dipshit, I didn’t lock it.” He headed to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, and being in a studio apartment, Jack would see him no matter where he went, so it didn’t matter at all.</p>
<p>Sure enough, the door opened and there was his ass of a brother. Unfortunately, said ass of a brother had a guest with him, which Race wasn’t prepared for, and he didn’t have any pants on, only Minecraft patterned boxer briefs. He was just glad he was wearing his binder.</p>
<p>“Damn it, Cowboy!” Race said, grabbing a towel and holding it in front of himself. “Warn me next time!”</p>
<p>Jack waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve got underwear on, its basically shorts.”</p>
<p>Jack’s guest, who Race recognized as Spot, grimaced a little, looking away. “I uh, I can step out if you need,” he offered gruffly.</p>
<p>“Please do,” Race said snidely.</p>
<p>“Stop being a dick, Racetrack,” Jack said warningly.</p>
<p>“Oh, and bringing a stranger into my apartment without telling me is somehow not a dick move?”</p>
<p>“I’ll step out,” Spot said awkwardly, closing the door behind him.</p>
<p>Race scoffed and grabbed some skinny jeans from the floor, pulling them on quickly regardless of how it jarred his still aching body. He was trembling with anger. “I can’t fucking believe you, Kelly.”</p>
<p>Jack made a frustrated noise. “What am I supposed to do, Race? If I had asked, you would’ve said no!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no shit I would’ve said no! He’s your friend, not fucking mine! Do you think that somehow makes it okay for you to do?” Race asked, exasperated. His fingers gripped his hair, and he was still shaking. Why was he shaking?</p>
<p>Jack opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked to the side, gritting his teeth. He crossed his arms across his chest and rocked from toe to heel for a moment before throwing his hands out in frustration, causing Race to flinch back. Jack quickly pulled his hands back, shoving them in his pockets. “What am I supposed to do, Race?” He finally said, voice cracking. “Nothing I do fucking helps! You won’t tell me what I can do to help and I just- I can’t help it, okay? You’re my little brother, and seeing you like this hurts so fucking much, and I-… I can’t reach you.”</p>
<p>Race hunched his shoulders, clenching his jaw. He was silent for a long moment before flicking his hand, going back into the kitchen. “I have pants on. Get him out of the fucking hallway before my neighbors call the cops or some shit.” He climbed onto the counter and dug through his cabinet.</p>
<p>Jack paused, watching him for a split second before opening the door. “Movie night?” He said, like nothing happened.</p>
<p>“Your uh… Your door isn’t sound proof, by the way,” Spot said.</p>
<p>“Guest picks,” Race said dryly.</p>
<p>“Guess we aren’t talking about it then, cool,” Spot mumbled. </p>
<p>“Go ahead and sit on the couch, Spot,” Jack said, looking over just as Race pulled out a half empty bottle of whiskey. “Gonna have a chat with Race.”</p>
<p>Race poured one glass. “Spot, do you drink? This shit is pretty good for the price.”</p>
<p>“Oh, uh-”</p>
<p>“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t be drinking anymore, Race.”</p>
<p>“You and Medda agreed that I wouldn’t be drinking anymore. However, it’s none of your fucking business what I drink and what I don’t.” As if to prove his point, Race drank the first glass in one go and slammed it down on the counter. </p>
<p>Jack scowled. “This is really how you wanna do this?”</p>
<p>“It’s my fucking life, Jack!”</p>
<p>“You’re not the only person affected by what you’re doing, Antonio! I’m your brother!”</p>
<p>Race poured himself another drink and Jack shook his head, stepping back. “I don’t know why I fucking bother. I’m leaving.”</p>
<p>Race said nothing. Jack nodded again, grabbing his jacket. “Let me know when you wanna stop drinking your problems away,” Jack spat, and then slammed the door behind him. Race took a long drink from his glass.</p>
<p>Spot stood, shuffling from foot to foot. “I’m uh. I’m gonna go, I think.”</p>
<p>“Sit down,” Race said, crossing the room. He shoved Spot down on the couch, straddled his lap, and kissed him. He kissed him until he couldn’t breathe, until he was numb, and it was only then that Race realized Spot wasn’t kissing back. He jerked his head back, and Spot cleared his throat, staring at Race’s collarbones to avoid his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna go,” he repeated. His voice was soft, gentle, and Race just felt fucking sick.</p>
<p>Then Spot left, and Race was alone in his apartment once again.</p>
<p>By morning, the whiskey bottle was empty.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>The next time Race bumped into Spot, it was in the stairwell going to his apartment. Spot was carrying a couple bags of groceries, going up as Race went down.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” Spot asked, just as Race said, “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“Jack asked me to bring you these,” Spot said awkwardly, holding up the grocery bags.</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, Jack can fuck off,” Race mumbled. “What, he couldn’t bear to see his failure of a brother himself so he sent his guard dog to do his bidding?”</p>
<p>“He thought you wouldn’t want to see him.”</p>
<p>Race’s jaw clenched. “I don’t,” he snapped.</p>
<p>Spot raised a brow. “You seem to be angry no matter what he does.”</p>
<p>“What does it matter to you?” Race asked, crossing his arms over his chest, like they’d protect him.</p>
<p>Spot looked at Race for a long moment before he sighed and pushed passed Race. “Let’s put these away and I’ll tell you.”</p>
<p>Race paused and stared after him, surprised by the sudden turn. “What?” He asked, but he still followed.</p>
<p>Spot didn’t respond until he was putting away the last of the groceries as Race watched, wordlessly pointing to where things went. He closed the last cupboard and sighed before turning towards Race, inspecting him quietly. “Do you know where I met Kelly?”</p>
<p>Race scoffed. “I figured college,” he said, wishing this whole thing would just be over already. He was uncomfortable with all of this.</p>
<p>He watched Spot’s hands as he gathered the paper bags, carefully folding them up. “Juvie,” Spot said simply. “We were cellmates.”</p>
<p>Race looked up in surprise, inspecting Spot with a new found interest. “What’d you do?”</p>
<p>Spot slid him a rather unimpressed look, and Race’s face flushed. Way to go, Higgins. “Stupid shit,” he said simply, leaving no room for discussion, and Race didn’t dare probe further.</p>
<p>“I don’t get why you’re here,” Race said instead, leaning his hip against the hard counter top of the island. It was some cheep shit, probably plastic or laminate or whatever gross counter tops were made of, and it was an ugly tan color. “You didn’t exactly seem super psyched the last time you saw me, since, well, y’know…” Race cleared his throat. Since I tried to kiss you while drunk and angry to try to get revenge on my asshole brother but also because you’re really hot.</p>
<p>“After you tried to make out with me as a thinly veined attempt to get back at your brother?” Spot said dryly, stuffing the folded paper bags into a single unfolded one. </p>
<p>Race’s face burned and he crossed his arms, glancing away. “Well, you didn’t have to say it like that, but yeah,” he mumbled.</p>
<p>A sigh left the other man’s lips and he regarded Race for a long moment before speaking again, voice quiet. “When my mom died, I was about fourteen. My dad was never in the picture, and we didn’t have no other family, so I got put in the system, and I wasn’t really given a chance to grieve. I was too old for most people to even consider adopting me, and way too much of a problem child to make it worth it for most of the others who were willing to at least take me in. It only went downhill from there, really, by the time I was sixteen I had been institutionalized twice, and done a shit ton of petty crimes. I wasn’t in a good place, and I would do just about anything to get the adults in my life to look at me.” He glanced at Race thoughtfully. “I think I was trying to ask for help without realizing it, and the people around me didn’t get it. They thought I was just… Acting out to act out. That I was so angry and destructive on purpose, that I wanted to be the source of their frustration.”</p>
<p>Race scuffed his socked foot against the cheap linoleum flooring, pressing on a patch that was bubbling. “So what?” He said, haughty and a touch too loud for the small space in between them. “What’s that got to do with me?”</p>
<p>Spot was quiet just long enough for Race to feel uncomfortable. He knew, of course, what the point was, but it didn’t mean he had to fucking like it. He especially didn’t want to deal with it. Spot, oddly enough, tore his gaze away and shrugged. “Fuck if I know,” he said lightly, and Race couldn’t actually tell if it was a lie or not. Of course he knew why he said that, but the way he said it made Race doubt himself. “Anyways, mind if I hang out? Feel free to kick me out, but I would love an excuse to procrastinate some a thing I’m supposed to be doing.”</p>
<p>Race paused, as if he was internally debating it, but it only took a few seconds for him to shrug. “Yeah, whatever, it’s not like I have anything important happening,” he said, as if that was the only reason.</p>
<p>The small, slight curve of the lips he got from Spot in return made something burn in his ribs that he refused to look into. “Cool,” Spot said, reaching for an empty cup left on the “breakfast bar” end of the island. “Y’wanna put on some music?” He placed the cup in the sink before he began wandering around the apartment, picking up dirty dishes and trash.</p>
<p>Heat prickled Race’s face and neck, but he just pulled out his phone, connecting it to his Bluetooth speaker. He hesitated, scrolling through his playlists. He definitely didn’t want to play anything embarrassing, but he wasn’t sure what qualified. After a few moments, he finally chose to play Long Sought Rest, a really small folk punk band he found a couple weeks prior. “You don’t have to clean up after me,” Race said, about a minute into the song.</p>
<p>Spot shrugged, dropping off some dishes before throwing the trash away. “I know, Racer. It’s what friends do.”</p>
<p>A smile threatened to cross Race’s lips, and he began to pick stuff up himself. He didn’t respond, and he didn’t have to. </p>
<p>Spot ended up staying a few hours in Race’s apartment, helping clean up, and then trading music recommendations which turned into actual conversations, and by the end of it, when Spot left, Race went to his kitchen and (mournfully) poured the rest of his alcohol down the kitchen sink drain. Then, he pulled out his laptop; he had some research to do.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>“Hey uh, can you… Can you come walk with me somewhere?” Race clutched the phone to his ear, pacing back and forth beside his bed. His voice was quiet and mumbled, face hot, and stomach filled with concrete. This was so fucking stupid-</p>
<p>There was a pause on the other side, long enough for Race to hold his breath, to only just barely hold back the tsunami of words that wanted to spill out. But he waited. “What?” Jack asked, confusion evident in his voice.</p>
<p>“Forget it, it’s stupid-” Race started, the tsunami coming out in full force. “I’m being ridiculous, it’s not even a bi deal, I don’t even know why I asked-”</p>
<p>“No, no, no,” Jack interrupted, more firm. “Hey, shut up, I was just surprised, that’s all. I was just surprised, after… You know, the whole argument and shit.” He paused and sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am sorry. I said a lot of things I regret-”</p>
<p>“I scheduled an appointment with a therapist,” Race blurted out.</p>
<p>Jack was shocked into silence again. “Oh,” he said, and then repeated it, but with something akin to pride or hope or something. “Oh, Race, that’s- that’s great! I, uh, th-that’s really good, that’s a good step, I-”</p>
<p>“It’s tomorrow, 2pm. Like a ten minute walk. You coming or not?” Race asked, ignoring whatever bullshit Jack was saying. He didn’t want to hear it right now, he didn’t need to be praised for doing something he should’ve done weeks ago.</p>
<p>Luckily, Jack seemed to pick up on that. “I’ll bring some coffee,” he said. “I’ll be at your place at like 1:30. I’ll be there, Race.”</p>
<p>“Okay. I’ll see you then.” Race hung up the phone and let out a slow breath.</p>
<p>So, maybe Racetrack wasn’t happy, and hadn’t been for a while. Maybe he picked up a little more from his mom than his looks, maybe he had a few more problems than he would prefer to admit, but at least he could say this truthfully: Racetrack Higgins wanted to get better, and he would fight tooth and nail to get there.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kudos make me smile and comments make my day.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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